A Taste of Hell
by Daemon Neko
Summary: After a year finallay UPDATED! Set after OOTP, Severus Snape is haunted by his past...
1. Heaven must be Hell in the sky

_Author's Note: I do not own the characters from Harry Potter or Severus Snape (although I wish I did ) I just like having them run around my twisted little world. Please don't sue me for I am verra poor. Also thank you Megan for beta reading this first Chapter for me! I will dedicate my next Snape picky to you!_

He swirled the jade green liquid in his glass, letting the scent of the liquor reach his nostrils. This combination of wormwood, anise, licorice, fennel, hyssop and coriander; otherwise know as absinthe, had been know to either inspire creativity or drive the drinker mad. After nearly three bottles, Severus Snape found that neither seemed to be true. He was still depressingly sober, although his mouth had gone completely numb. He had been waiting here at The Gluttonous Dragon, reputed as one of the higher-quality dives that you could find in Knockturn Alley (which wasn't saying much), for nearly two hours. He was supposed to meet with a Death Eater carrying information on Hogwarts defenses, a way of showing Voldemort that he was still loyal.

Which partially explained his choice of drink. Some might find it odd for a potion's master to drink something that had been know to burn holes in your brain, unless said person didn't care about anything anymore. Severus took a gulp of the absinthe and grimaced. This whole business of trying to get back in Voldemort's good graces was repulsive to him.

Unfortunately, as Dumbledore had told him, this was the only way they could find out just what he was planning next. He had to do this. Albus had put his trust, his faith in him. Not that Severus felt he deserved it. He still couldn't fathom why Albus had helped him, given him a second chance.

Severus sighed and looked around the tavern in an attempt to take his mind off of his present situation. It was reminiscent of a Victorian Opium house, with faded, stained velvet pillows and scratched oak furniture. There was a small stage near the back and, of course, upstairs rooms for the small brothel that resided here to keep the customers entertained. This was a place where upper class lowlifes gathered to conduct both business and pleasure. Severus felt he fit right in.

He poured the last of the absinthe into his glass then lifted the emptied bottle and waved it at the barkeep, signaling for another. The place was starting to fill up with customers, and it appeared that a show was about to start. Severus leaned on the scared table and swirled the green liquid in his glass, showing only moderate interest in what was happening on the stage.

Music with an Arabic flavor filled the air. The crowd hushed as a woman stepped onto the stage. She was small and delicate, dressed in typical harem-wear; a top made of gold chains and coins; silks wrapped around her waist and thighs. She was barefoot save for a few bracelets with jingling bells around her ankles. Her skin was as pale as porcelain; her hair long and black as a raven's wing as it flowed down her back and shoulders like a midnight waterfall. Her eyes were the color of molten gold, and they seemed to bore right into Severus' skull as she looked right at him. Severus gulped half the contents of his glass, trying to ignore her piercing stare. She smiled showing sharp white teeth and began to dance, her hips swaying with the music. She moved slowly in time with the music, making her way off the stage into the audience. She seemed totally lost in the music as she danced between tables. A member of the audience reached out his hand to touch her as she passed, but his companion stopped him, shaking his head and looking almost afraid. This woman seemed to inspire a sort of fear inspired awe from the crowd.

She danced her way to Severus' table; her body swaying like a serpent, hypnotizing its prey. His mouth had suddenly gone dry as her golden eyes caught his black ones. He emptied his glass, and wished that the damned bartender would bring him another bottle. The woman slid past him, but not before caressing her soft fingers across his cheek. The audience made a collective gasp of shock. The woman laughed as she finished her dance back on the stage and disappeared behind velvet curtains.

"You should feel honored," said a voice that came from Snape's side. He turned to see that the bartender had finally arrived with another bottle.

Severus took the bottle and poured himself another glass.

"What the hell are you talking about?" He asked in a low hiss, as he went back to his ritual of swirling the liquor in his glass.

"The woman sir. The last customer who tried to touch her lost his hand," the bartender paused, chuckling at the memory. "Literally. She must have really taken a fancy to you." The bartender chuckled once more and headed to another customer.

Severus stared at the door, coming to the final decision that no one was going to show up. He should have known that this plan would have never worked.

Suddenly the door burst open and Severus dropped his glass, sending it shattering to the floor, at the sight of the newcomer.

"Karkaroff?" He managed to gasp before dodging a spell that was cast at him. He dove under a table as the bar erupted in total pandemonium. Karkaroff grinned madly as he held his wand before him.

"Time to die Snape!" he cackled as he kicked a chair out of his path, "The Master will take me back when he's found out that I killed your traitorous hide!" Karkaroff got Severus in his sights and smiled.

"_Avada-_" he began, but Severus was quicker.

"_Expelliarmus!_"

Karkaroff was knocked into a nearby wall, his wand flying into the air and lost amid trampling feet of people trying to escape. Severus felt a hand tugging at his sleeve and turned to see the dancer from before.

"Come with me quickly. There are Deatheaters outside."

He was too flustered to argue as she pulled him past the stage down a dark hallway. As they ducked in he caught a fleeting glimpse of the familiar masks filling the bar. She led him down narrow and twisting hallways and finally towards the outside. He had no idea where they were, but he knew that it would probably only be a matter of time before the Deatheaters found them.

"This way," the woman hissed as she led him through another set of winding passageways. Finally he recognized his surroundings. They were somewhere near the junction of Knockturn and Diagon Alley.

Severus stopped and looked at the young woman suspiciously.

"Why are you helping me?" he demanded. The dancer laughed softly and turned to face him, her golden eyes twinkling with dark mirth.

"You and I are kindred spirits of a sort," she purred as her fingers trailed across his cheek once more. He stiffened at her touch, but did not pull away.

"I have my reasons."

She drew forth an ebony wand and pointed it at her face. "_Frendo Laesio._" Livid bruises began to bloom across her lovely face.

"What are you doing?" Severus asked, horrified that she would do this to herself.

"Securing my alibi and your escape. If you wish to live, Severus Snape, leave... Now."

Severus' eyes narrowed suspiciously, "Wait- how did you know my name-"

She interrupted him by grabbing his collar and pulling him down until they were face to face. Then she kissed him. Severus was startled out of finishing his question. For a moment he had lost himself in the pleasurable sensation.

Suddenly she pulled away and whispered, "Run," before heading back towards Knockturn Alley. He stood stunned for a moment until he could hear the sound of pounding feet.

"Where is he?" he heard one of the Deatheaters hiss.

"He went that way," came a sobbing reply, "he said he would kill me if I didn't help him escape."

Not wanting to have made her efforts in vain, Severus quietly made his way down Diagon Alley and towards Hogwarts to tell Dumbledore the news


	2. Demons Dreaming

Demons Dreaming 

Severus stood in front of Albus Dumbledore's desk, his eyes downcast and focusing on the designs made by the inlaid wood grain. Albus sat behind his desk, his fingers arched and resting against his chin, as he waited patiently for the Potions Master to speak.

"I've failed you," Severus stated simply, in a voice that sounded strangely hollow in his own ears.

"No, no Severus," Albus replied soothingly, "We knew there was the possibility that Voldemort would know that you were no longer aligned with him." The headmaster shook his head and sighed. "We had to try at any rate. I'm just sorry that we placed you at such risk-"

"No," Severus interrupted curtly; "I knew the risks. I brought this all upon myself when I decided to join the Death Eaters in the first place." 

He growled in frustration and began to pace around the room like a restless panther. Fawkes, Albus' phoenix, ruffled its feather's nervously as Severus' robes whipped past.

"I'm useless to you now," Severus voice was dripping with self-loathing. 

Albus gave him a sharp look. "That's a load of Codswallop and you know it."

Severus' head shot up; surprised by the headmaster's tone. 

Albus sighed, "I'm sorry Severus, but you know as well as I that you are one of the best Potions Masters we have." He shook his head, looking very tired. " Severus, maybe we should continue this conversation tomorrow.. After the both of us have had some rest."

Severus mumbled in agreement and stalked out of the office. He made his way down empty hallways towards his quarters, which were located near his classroom in the dungeons. As he listened to his own footsteps echo back at him, he was greatly relieved that there was still at least another month left of the summer holidays. No pestering students to get underfoot. The numbness that he had felt in his mouth earlier had spread throughout his entire body, but his emotions were still there, raw and painful. He had failed, yet again, no matter what Dumbledore had said. Severus snarled and pounded his fist against the roughly hewed stonewall, and managed to cut up his knuckles. He couldn't feel any pain, but he stopped to watch blood ooze out of his wounds with morbid fascination. He shuddered slightly and shook himself out of his reverie. He entered his private quarters, resolving to continue his attempt to drink himself into a drunken stupor. 

After rummaging about several cabinets he managed to find a bottle of very old cognac. He pulled out the cork with his teeth and proceeded to drink large gulps straight from the bottle. The alcohol took almost immediate effect, due to the fact he was still under the influence of the absinthe. He wandered into the potions classroom, the bottle hanging limply in his hand, and collapsed into a nearby stool. He rested his head against the scared surface of the worktable and was about to slip into an inebriated slumber, when a sharp pain struck him in his left arm. The shock of pain sent the half empty bottle crashing onto the floor.  Severus snarled as he tore off his sleeve to reveal the Dark Mark, which was burning in all of its perverted glory. 

"God Dammit!" he roared in anger as he stumbled towards a nearby sink. He turned on the faucet and let cool water run over the burning tattoo, but to no avail. It still burned as if it had been freshly branded into his flesh. His eye caught upon a piece of steel wool sitting on the edge of the sink. He grabbed it and began to scrub furiously at the mark, rubbing his skin raw and bloody. But the Mark was still there, mocking him. He let out an inarticulate roar and took out his frustrations on several beakers and flasks that were lined up near the sink, sending them shattering into the wall. 

Then as he was about to take his anger out on more helpless glassware, he saw a sharpened bolline, which he used for cutting herbs for potions, sitting on his desk. He grabbed the curved blade, held it just above the Mark and began to slice into his flesh, attempting to cut Voldemort's sign off of his arm. He felt no pain as he cut down to the bone, severing muscle, tendons and flesh. The chuck of skin spattered onto the floor, with a gush of blood. To Severus' horror the mark was still there, burned into bone and muscle. He dropped the bolline to the floor and began to chuckle darkly. Even if he tried to cut his arm off, the Mark would probably show up somewhere else on him. Maybe on his face next time, so everyone could see his sin.

He began laughing madly now, finding the whole situation ironically funny, as he sat here drenched in his own blood. Lightheadedness began to overtake him, and his laughter turned into soft chuckles as he felt himself slip into unconsciousness from the blood loss. He willingly let himself slip into the peaceful oblivion.


	3. Ardente veritate Burning Truth

Ardente veritate (Burning Truth) 

Lantern-like eyes prowled the darkened hallways of Hogwarts. The eyes made their way to a patch of moonlight; revealing a scrawny, dust colored cat. Mrs. Norris continued her trek down into the labyrinthine bowels of stairs that led to the dungeons, her whiskers twitching nervously. She reached the door of the Potion's classroom and stopped, her tawny fur raising along her spine. She hissed and began to scratch at the door, attempting to open it.   
A moment later Filch appeared out of the shadows, his lantern aloft.   
"Wot is it, my sweet?" he asked, as he reached down and ran his ringer across the fur of her back. Mrs. Norris looked up at her owner and let out a nervous mew. Filch raised one eyebrow and checked the handle of the door to the Potion's classroom. It opened easily and without resistance. Filch hesitated, momentarily, before calling out.  
" Hullo? Anyone there?"  
Only a chilling silence answered him. He swung forth his lantern, illuminating a still form on the ground.  
"Dear god.." he gasped as he dropped his lantern to the floor.  
  
  


  
* * * * * * * * *

  
Dark.   
  
Black waves of nothingness washed over Snape as he came into awareness. The sounds of echoing laughter bounced around his brain. One. No, two voices. Laughing. It was a minute before he realized he knew those voices. Malfoy and Karkaroff. And then, there was the terrified screaming.   
  
The woman struggled under Snape's wiry frame as he firmly clamped a hand over her mouth with one hand and grasped both her wrists with the other. "What the Hell?! What the Hell am I doing?" He struggled against what he knew he was going to do. But his body wasn't obeying him any better than the woman. He forced his eyes open. Forced himself to bear witness to his own darkness. It was the least he could do.  
  
The musky smell of sweat filled his nostrils, a strong overly-sweet dark odor. The woman bit into the flesh of his hand. He pulled it away, allowing her a small cry before fastening it securely around her throat.   
  
He felt so lightheaded, so out of control. This couldn't be happening. He found himself looking down on the scene as a passive observer; Karkaroff and Lucius egged him on as if it were a hideously twisted spectator sport.   
  
He watched horrified and helpless as his other self bashed the woman's head against the stone floor. Her eyes lost their focus, but she did not stop her terrified whimpering and sobbing. Again and again he watched himself do this until a small pool of blood formed beneath her and her eyes rolled back in her head.   
  
_"Christ, I've killed her!"_ His observer-self thought, beginning to panic. Dizziness overcame him and he fell to the floor alongside the gruesome scene. He looked on the dead woman fearfully, the acrid taste of acid churning in his stomach bit into his throat. But suddenly, the woman's eyes flew open in what seemed like a spray of molten gold. Gold eyes. He looked again at her and realized it was the woman from the bar. The dancer from this past morning, or was it in his future? He had lost all sense of time, he felt ill and longed for the darkness that didn't come. And still the laughter, pervading everything. He looked on the hideous masks Lucius and Karkaroff wore as the laughter behind them seemed to amplify and rise in pitch and meld together into a single voice. It raised the hairs on the back of his neck. _That_ laugh. He looked again on the masks as they blended into one. A tall gaunt wizard stood in their places and, laughing, held out his wand and pointed it at the woman.   
  
"Avada Kedavra!" The flash of green issued forth from his wand and mingled with the gold of the woman's eyes as the pools of melted sunlight died out and recessed into the visage of a rotting corpse.

* * * * * *  
  


"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"  
He bolted upright in bed, his body bathed in sweat, and immediately regretted it. His entire body throbbed with pain, especially his head. Ye gods, he thought to himself, what a nightmare.. Never, ever again would he mix alcohol again... at least, not if one of them was absinthe. His eyes felt gummed shut, so he tried to raise his hand to rub them clear. His yelped in pain as a stabbing pain shot up his arm, and his eyes snapped open. Everything was fuzzy, but he could plainly see he was no longer in the Potion's classroom. Severus blinked a few times to clear his vision and tried to lift his head. He was rewarded with a wave a nausea and a vaguely light-headed sensation. He took several deep breaths, waiting for his stomach to calm down, when he heard Madame Pomfrey whisper to one of her nurses.  
"He's awake. Go fetch the headmaster. He'll want to speak with him."  
Severus sighed and waited for the inevitable.


	4. Omnem crede diem tibi diluxisse supremum

**Omnem crede diem tibi diluxisse supremum**  
_Believe that each day which breaks is your last_  
  
Dumbledore sat next to Snape's bed, his face a stony mask. Snape squirmed under the headmaster's gaze, and couldn't bring himself to meet his eyes.  
  
"I wasn't trying to kill myself.." he said for what felt like the hundredth time.   
  
The older man continued his silence.  
  
"Please believe me Albus," Snape mentally cursed himself at the pleading tone that crept into his voice, "I was drunk.. I just wanted to get the mark off.."   
  
Finally Dumbledore lowered his gaze and let out a tired sigh. For the first time since he had known him, the headmaster began looking his age. Snape turned away, unable to stand the expression on Dumbledore's face.  
  
_Lovely,_ he thought bitterly to himself, _All you're good for is disappointing people._  
  
"Severus.." Dumbledore began, and Snape steeled himself for the words he knew were coming. "It might be prudent if you take a break from teaching this year. Maybe keep low for a while.."  
  
Even though he suspected that it would come to this, it still hurt. "No!" he hissed, lunging forward, ignoring the dizziness that threatened to overwhelm him.   
  
Dumbledore looked up at him, and Snape gladly met his eyes, his gaze filled with hurt and defiance. Finally the headmaster shook his head and chuckled softly.  
  
"Maybe, I spoke too soon," Dumbledore sighed. "You'll have to forgive this old man for being too overprotective. I only have your best interests at heart."  
  
"My best interests?" Snape snarled, "By keeping me locked away doing nothing? We all know how well that technique worked with Sirius Black!"  
  
At seeing the stricken expression that flashed across Dumbledore's face, Snape felt the anger drain out of him. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."  
  
  
"Its quite all right Severus," came Dumbledore's tired reply. "It seems that all my good intentions as of late, seem to be blowing up in my face. Well.. You know what they say about good intentions anyways.." He chuckled mirthlessly. "At any rate, I'm glad you don't want to give up your position. I know I wouldn't be able to find a Potion's Master anywhere near your caliber."  
  
The headmaster stood up abruptly. "Now, if you will excuse me, Severus. You need your rest, and I have some matters to attend to." With that Dumbledore exited, leaving Snape in the empty infirmary.

_18 years earlier…._

Severus felt his heart clench in his chest as he, Malfoy and Karkaroff entered a safe house somewhere deep in the bowels of Knockturn Alley. The two older men, were laughing their fool heads off, totally unconcerned about the fact that they had a horde of aurors on their tail.  Severus flung himself into a chair glowering at Malfoy, who was pulling out bottles of alcohol from an old cabinet that appeared to be well stocked. It looked like Malfoy used this safe house in a regular basis. He handed a full bottle of expensive brandy to Severus, who raised an eyebrow in question.

"Just a drink between friends," Malfoy said with a sly grin, "And a way to kick off tonight's festivities."

"I was under the impression that we already had our 'festivities' for the night." Severus stated with a scowl before grabbing the bottle.

"Ahh, but that was business, and I think after a long night of doing the Dark Lord's work, we deserve a little pleasure…"

Severus felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end at the tone of Malfoy's voice. He broke the seal of the bottle and took a swig, relishing the warmth that settled in his stomach, as he watched Malfoy walked to the far corner of the room and opened a door. It revealed a small prison like room, with three huddled figures inside. Three young women, with large frightened eyes. A sick feeling of nausea washed over him and he swallowed another mouthful of brandy to keep his bile from rising.

 Malfoy reached into the room and pulled one of the girls out by her hair. She cried piteously and struggled until he slapped her hard across the face. "I thought we might need a little entertainment after tonight's Muggle baiting. There's enough for everyone, and rooms down this hall," Malfoy chuckled. "Help yourselves.."

Karkaroff smirked and pulled another of the girls out, one who apparently had no fight left in her, and dragged her down the hall. Malfoy looked at Severus expectantly, but the younger man averted his eyes and  took another swing of brandy.

"I'm fine right here, thanks," Severus muttered as he sunk deeper into his chair. Malfoy gave him a piercing look for a moment before shrugging, as if it was no consequence. He used his foot to close the door to the small room, trapping the remaining girl inside, before dragging his girl down to a back room.

He really didn't know how long he sat there, listening to the cries and screams of the women, but it feel like eons.   


	5. Excitate vow e somno

**Chapter 5**

**_Excitate vow e somno_**

_Wake up from your dreams_

The next few days after Madame Pomfrey finally let him out of her clutches were pure hell for Snape. Everyone treated him as if he were made of glass, always asking if he was alright or if he needed anything. He would always answer back in frosty tones that he was perfectly fine and they should mind their own damn business. The last straw came when Trelawney cornered him in the teacher's lounge as he was writing up the lesson plan for Advanced Potions.

"Severus Snape," she tsked, "You shouldn't be overworking yourself." She reached over and plucked the quill from his hand. She didn't notice the murderous look that crossed his face as she continued to prattle on. "Honestly, you need to take care of yourself. I mean who knows what you might do if exposed to more stress..."

Something inside Snape's head snapped. He stood up slowly, and Trelawney's stream of words faded off into a squeak as she realized that she had gone too far. He slowly stalked towards her and she scrambled backwards until he had her cornered. He snatched his quill back from her limp fingers.

"You stupid, pathetic little woman," he hissed in a voice dripping with venom. "Do not ever assume you know anything about me. In the future suggest you mind your own damn business, and keep your nose out of mine."

Snape exited the room with a smug sense of self satisfaction. It felt good to take his anger and frustration out on someone, which he hadn't really been able to do since the students had gone home for the summer. Normally he wouldn't yell at a fellow teacher, but Trelawney had chosen the wrong time to pester him about his state of well being. He decided to retreat to the potions lab in an attempt to finish the rest of his lesson plans, but his brain kept going back to the nightmare he had been having ever since the night he had tried to cut the Dark Mark from his arm.

With a snort of frustration he tossed his quill down and raked his fingers thru his lank hair. The nightmares were becoming more vivid and disturbing as he was forced to relive the night that had caused him to turn himself into Dumbledore. One of the most disturbing facts was that the girl he had killed was replaced by the woman that helped him recently escape the Death Eater's at the bar. Those golden eyes of hers still haunted him even when he was awake. There were times he thought he could see her out of the corner of his eye, or briefly in the reflection of a mirror. Of course he knew it was just a case of overactive imagination mixed in with a hefty dose of guilt and lack of sleep that was causing him to see things. But sometimes…

Snape shook his head and sighed. He was getting to easily distracted as of late, and in these times that was dangerous. Now was not the time to dwell in the past.

Snape picked up his quill and parchment and shoved them into a drawer before heading back to his room. Although he was tired, sleep was the furthest thing from his mind. He knew as soon as he closed his eyes the nightmare would be back.

As he paced around his room, he could feel exhaustion creeping up on him. His eyes were drawn to the empty bottles of dreamless sleep potion that lay scattered about the room. They had been absolutely useless at keeping the nightmares at bay. In a fit of anger he kicked one of the bottles sending it crashing into the wall, shattering into a burst of glass shards. Snape snorted in impotent anger as he finally slumped into a chair. Although his anger managed to fight his weariness off for a moment, it came crashing back down on him a hundredfold. As he sat for a moment struggling to keep his eyes open, a thought occurred to him. Maybe he should just let the nightmares come. He deserved them. They were just punishment for all he had done. Firming his resolve, Snape leaned back into the chair and gave up all resistance, and let sleep take him.

_Snape was almost done with his bottle of brandy by the time that Karkaroff and Malfoy were done. Malfoy had come out of his room, casually wiping blood off his hands. He looked at Snake with a wicked smirk. _

_"Are you sure you don't want to join in on the festivities, Severus?" Malfoy asked. "You definitely look in need of some loosening up…"_

_"As I said, I'm fine right here," Snape replied in a frosty tone, as Karkaroff had exited his room as well. Slumping further down in his chair, Snape took another swig, only to find that the bottle was empty. Before he could get up to get another, Karkaroff was at his side, handing him a fresh bottle. _

_"Here you go Severus," he smirked as he placed the brandy in Snape's hand. "If you won't have one of the girls, you might as well drink some more…"_

_If Snape hadn't drunken so much, he would have never taken the bottle. But in his haste to numb himself from everything that was going on, he took the bottle eagerly and drank several large swallows before his common sense kicked in. Slowly he felt something stirring inside him as he realized with dawning horror that Karkaroff had put something in the brandy. His fingers felt numb and the bottle slipped from his hands as he felt himself lose control of himself. It was if he was being held hostage in his own body. He mechanically stood up and was dimly aware of Karkaroff opening the door to the room holding the last girl. _

AN: 1/4/05

Woah, has it really been over a year since I updated? I'm sooo sorry! PLEASE FORGIVE ME!!Life has thrown me a lot of crap this past year and I haven't had time to update. But hopefully (for those of you who don't hate me enuff to keep reading) I'll pump out a few more chapters to your liking.


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